


The Last Letters

by ohelrond



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Abuse, Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Suicide, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-03-14
Packaged: 2018-10-05 06:38:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10299911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohelrond/pseuds/ohelrond
Summary: Thomas Hamilton is imprisoned in Bethlem Royal Hospital for his work to pardon the pirates of the Bahamas, and for his love of Lieutenant James McGraw. He is granted one privilege: pen and parchment. His letters are promised to be delivered to his father, Lord Alfred Hamilton, the man who put him there.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Admittedly this is a lazy piece of writing and it is messy, but I had to get it out of my head. I've been thinking about Thomas locked up way too much lately.

_To the Honourable Lord Alfred Hamilton, on the twentieth of November in the year seventeen-hundred and five;_

My Lord Father,

The proposition to give pardon to the pirates of the West Indies was not one I ever expected you to support or ignore. I did believe since the notion first came to my mind that you would do all in your power to prevent such a course of action taking place and that once again, we would find ourselves on opposite sides of Westminster to battle it out. Never, however, did I believe your constitution would be so offended, so revolted by the proposal that you would have me sent here.

If you have any love for me left, I beg of you – free me. _Please_.

Your devoted son,

_Thomas_

* * *

 

_To the Honourable Lord Alfred Hamilton, on the twenty-third of November in the year seventeen-hundred and five;_

My Lord Father,

I have received a message that you read my letter, yet no response comes from you. I tire of this punishment. I beg of you to end it, and allow me to return home to my wife and my friend. A new course of action for the pirates of New Providence Island shall be formulated if it pleases you. Perhaps if we work together, we might reach a solution that satisfies the both of us. 

My candles burn low and ink runs dry. My letters must remain short, my heart remains heavy. 

If you have any love for me left, I beg of you - free me. _Please_.

Your devoted son,

_Thomas_

* * *

 

 

_To the Lady Mary Hamilton, on the twenty-third of November in the year seventeen-hundred and five;_

Beloved Mother,

My heart aches within these walls where the wails haunt the hallways, and the screams of my fellow patients keep my nights long, and I miss you. Two weeks within this place have been Hell, and the Devil lives here. The horrors to which I have been subjected to I cannot bring myself to write of and all that strengthens me is the hope of seeing the sun again, of my wife and my friends and my mother waiting for my release. The winter is cold here. I am so cold. 

My father has been deeply offended by my wish to pardon sinners and offer them a future in the place they already call home and this is my punishment to bear for it but I fear he knows not of the treatment of those kept in this place. Freezing baths, days kept away from all other life, beatings, chains, binds. I oft wonder how many came here with their minds intact and found themselves lost. I fear if left here for many seasons, a similar fate might yet I meet. 

I am very afraid, Mother. What frightens me most is not my sorrow, not my tears. What frightens me is what comes next. Please do not abandon me. 

Your ever loving son,

Thomas

* * *

 

 

_To the Honourable Lord Alfred Hamilton, on the twenty-sixth of November in the year seventeen-hundred and five;_

My lord Father,

Against your wishes, my mother visited my cell this morn. She told me of the true nature regarding my imprisonment and she wept. She wept for my sins, and for the sins of my love and of my devotion, and for the sins committed against my father. She begged me to repent and seek peace with you, to renounce all of my transgressions.

The love I have for my mother is great and how easy it would be to obey her. It would not, however, be the right thing to do.

I regret nothing I have done in my life. I regret none of those whom I have loved. I loved James and I love him still and to my mother I said this. Again, she wept. This time she told me that I shall never come home again lest there is peace between you and I again. Peace shall never exist between us, not even for the sake of my mother. Not after all she told me of what you have done to my wife and to my friend. I warn you, Lord Hamilton, of his capabilities. Of _their_ capabilities.  You have sent them into exile, and you know where they will go. My wife is the scandal of London and yet the entire city adores her. They love, and they hate, and they will not forget her. James McGraw is a good man but I know him. He will give into his anger and his hate and he will not forget me. They will go to the New World and they will build for themselves a life, the life we dreamed of sharing. Given the chance, I warn you now, James McGraw will have your head. He has not the restraint and Miranda will help him to unleash his absolute rage. You heard of how he bloodied the faces of three officers who called her conduct into question - what do you imagine he will do now that you have taken everything from him? From them? 

My mother begs I ask your forgiveness. I have done nothing to forgive. It is you who ought seek a pardon. One day, you shall have to answer for your crimes. 

T. H.

* * *

 

_To the Honourable Lord Alfred Hamilton, on the Third of April in the year seventeen-hundred and six;_

I have few words left. 

I hear stories of Miranda's death, of James', of my mother's, of my friends'. I hardly know what to believe any more. Some tell me my mother lives, some that she does not. Rumours tell me my loyal friend Lord Ashe breathes no more, others that he finds himself governor in the New World. Everyone tells me the same of James. That James, sodomite, conspirator, adulterer, rots at the end of a rope after his sharp drop and sudden stop. That Miranda Hamilton found her home at the bottom of the ocean. 

The doing was yours. Happiness was mine and it pained your blackened heart. Your pain is to be short-lived now. By the time of your reading this letter, it will be over. Perhaps I will find peace with them again in death. I can embrace it now, knowing they will be waiting for me. 

Until my final breath, I shall know no shame. 

May yours follow you to your grave. 

T.H.


End file.
